


On the First Date

by Danii (ashurbadaktu)



Category: Wizards and Warriors
Genre: F/M, First Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashurbadaktu/pseuds/Danii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of true love never did run smooth.  For Geoffrey and Ariel, this is especially true.  Even if he did buy her leather pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the First Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hhertzof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhertzof/gifts).



> To the recipient, I certainly hope you enjoy. I tried to work in a little of everyone and write something I could see being an episode (maybe the first part of a two parter).

It took Geoffrey eight months before Ariel would actually accept a message from him.

Of course, he'd given her a couple of months before that to cool off; when one is responsible for the ruination of a princess's birthday presents by assisting one's brother in an attempt to blow the entire kingdom to kingdom come, a little space is best. He'd tried to wait longer, but after having met her in person, after having stood in the presence of her beauty, Geoffrey had HAD to try again.

It certainly wasn't easy; after all, he had several obstacles. For one, his brother; Dirk wasn't exactly supportive of his affection for the fair princess. While he'd made a few very good arguments for diplomacy and melding the kingdom back together through marriage, Blackpool the Elder would have none of it. With Dirk, of course, came Bethel and Vector and magic just made everything so much more complicated, but Geoffrey would not back down.

He'd gotten fourteen messengers, eight carrier pigeons, a specially trained lightning hawk, and three bards killed, but _finally_ his perseverance had paid off. Well, that and a visit to the tannery for a present.

NONETHELESS, he had her answer, the answer to his prayers, the sweetly-scented pink paper envelope that he had waited months for, in his hands. While he longed to know her mind and her words, he took his time opening the tiny note, enjoying the care and beauty of this mundane task as he might Ariel's presence (and carefully forgetting that almost certainly, the dainty written hand and the meticulous presentation had more to do with Cassandra than Ariel herself). Finally, however, it was open.

And all his prayers had been answered.

* * *

"A 'date'."

"I believe that's what she said, your Majesty," Traquill chimed in; he was trying not to laugh, but it was sort of obvious from his tone that that was exactly what he wanted to do.

"I know what they are, Traquill," King Baaldorf grumbled. "I'm just wondering what to do about this."

"_Do,_ your Majesty?" and even Traquill was a little surprised. He'd thought it was fairly obvious what the king would do, regardless of his findings.

The first thing, of course (considering the source of the letter) had been to test the thing magically. Traquill had run Geoffrey's correspondence through every magical test and query known to him and the sheet of parchment had come up clean every time. Not even a harmful hand had touched the thing! Understandably, he'd run that one twice, just to be sure.

"Yes, Traquill. What to do. This... might present an opportunity, after all."

Traquill was starting to wonder if his eyebrows might float right off. They kept hopping up, anyway, and he _was_ a wizard. These things did happen on occasion.

"Don't look at me like that, Traquill. Regardless of our differences with the north, Geoffrey _is_ of suitable birth. And we might be able to play this in our favor."

...Traquill really didn't like that look. Then again, he wasn't a big fan of the king having big ideas. They'd been together long enough for the wizard to know exactly what could happen when he did.

"Well," the king continued, "it would be rather good to have support within Castle Blackpool. Young people in love will do many things they aught'nt, after all. It also might spur young Greystone into being a little more... attentive to his bride to be."

"And if Dirk Blackpool decides to stick his nose into things?" Traquill reminded.

"We've dealt with it before," Baaldorf said firmly, "and we'll have to deal with him again anyway. At least this way, we'll have an eye on the boy. We won't get caught out by surprise."

The old wizard leaned back in his chair as he considered the problem, his old friend the king, and how he might phrase the question running through his mind.

"The princess can be very insistent when it suits her, can't she, your Majesty?"

The king looked very very weary indeed and some of that steel seeped out of him. He was usually as oblivious to her complaints as she was to the wants and needs of others, but they'd both seen the look in her eyes. It was supervise this mess or have her slip off and do something truly foolish. "Yes, Traquill. Oh yes."

About what he'd figured. Well, best he earn his keep.

"I'll see what I can do from my end, then. I'm sure I've got _something_ for the occasion. And maybe once it's done, the princess will have this sort of nonsense out of her system."

"Very good, Traquill, thank you."

* * *

"A 'date'?!"

Marko spread his hands.

"Don't ask me, Eric. Cassandra insisted it was true, though. And she'd know, after all."

Eric Greystone's handsome face looked a little less handsome as it was marred with a frown. They were in a tavern already, so it wasn't as if Marko had waited until they were in some inhospitable wilderness to tell him. No, he'd been a dutiful servant and made sure ale was well at hand.

"A date. With Geoffrey Blackpool. And King Baaldorf gave his blessing?"

Marko paused before taking a long gulp. Then he shrugged.

"Apparently, it was that, or having her run off again. And we saw how well that worked out the last time."

Eric thought it'd worked out pretty well the last time, considering. Ariel had found out the location of the firecon, returned unharmed, and had even smiled and said hello. He hadn't even had to go save her or anything.

"Well, I don't like it."

Marko could have laughed. Of course his friend didn't like it. No one _liked_ it except for Princess Ariel. Maybe that was the problem.

"She's still betrothed to you, you know."

That brought Eric up short with a blink. What? What did that have to do with anything? "What does that have to do with anything? I'm more concerned that this is some trick of Blackpool's!"

His friend shook his head and took another long gulp of ale.

"Nope, apparently not. Uncle Tray tested the note. All clean, not even a touch of harmful intent."

Eric put his flagon down with a _thunk_ and lifted his head. There was no way he was going to let this happen. There was no way he was going to allow Dirk Blackpool to... to manipulate the interests of a young girl (even if it _was_ Ariel) for one of his schemes. He couldn't stop it happening, but he was going to make sure that whatever nefarious plans the elder Blackpool might attempt would be stopped in it's tracks.

"Marko," he asked, turning to his friend, "did Cassandra say where they were going?"

Oh no, Marko knew that look. It was the look that meant they were going to go and do something uncomfortable well away from the warm hearth at the tavern and certainly out of eyeshot of the Winslow sisters.

"Yeah," he admitted cautiously, "why?"

* * *

All in all, Ariel thought things were going swimmingly.

Geoffrey had arrived early, submitted willingly to the full body search and that old wizard's tests, and best of all? He'd brought her presents.

A mink stole from the finest crafters in Aperans. A gold and diamond necklace. A perfect pink hat. Exquisite slippers built with a very helpful little wedge heel. A painting (of her of course) that had been done by one of the traveling artisans who'd lately been at Castle Baaldorf. And _another_ pair of leather pants.

Say what you liked about the fact that the Blackpools were murderous villains, but at least they had taste. Not one book in the lot!

After she'd instructed Cassandra to put all of her lovely presents away (once the guards and Traquill were done scanning them for harmful magic anyway), they'd been escorted to one of the smaller banquet halls to enjoy a private dinner together. Geoffrey had apologized that he couldn't show her the wonders of the kitchen at Castle Blackpool, but Ariel wasn't really all that concerned about the food.

"Tell me about myself," she said with a winning little smile.

Geoffrey opened his mouth to start answering questions but he realized then what she'd actually said. Oh. Herself. He could do that! That was simple enough.

"You... are perfection in earthly form, beauty and grace. A vision of loveliness that would make even the angels step aside in your favor."

Ariel couldn't help but smile more. He was so sweet! So kind! So willing to do anything to see her! And, according to Cassandra (who had, of course, helped administer some of those searches), so very nicely built beneath his doublet and hose. She had standards, after all.

"I know," she agreed, "but do go on..."

Geoffrey realized about then that he was going to run out of words soon. He hoped she wouldn't mind a few repeats here or there.

"Your hair shames gold itself, sunlight itself. Your eyes are bluer than the sky, bluer than the sea. I could fall into them and drown and die a happy man."

"I make you think of drowning?"

"Er... not quite."

"Sure?"

"Um. Yes."

Ariel _beamed_. "Okay, continue."

* * *

Marko agreed with the mice in the rafters. This was not a good place for them to be.

"What if they look up here and spot us?" he asked Eric. Eric waved those concerns aside. Ariel had her hat and Geoffrey was focused on Ariel; no one would be looking high enough to see them.

"More importantly," Marko pointed out in another whisper, "why do we have to be up here? The king's posted guards at every door, inside and out. Uncle Tray's checked everything he came with. The princess is safe."

And the tavern was waiting.

Eric turned and gave his friend a Look that could have left a mark in the wood behind him.

"There's something wrong about this whole thing, I know it! He's not going to get away with anything, if I have anything to say about it."

As far as he was concerned, Marko had said everything he'd had to say about it. Eric just wasn't listening.

"They're just having dinner," the larger (and thus somewhat more uncomfortable) man said, glancing down. A really good dinner. A really delicious looking dinner with all kind of roast beast and sweetened carrots and fresh baked bread and soft, fresh-churned butter. Why were they up here again?

"Until he strikes. Wait for it."

Marko resigned himself to waiting for it. It wasn't as if they could get down and leave until they were gone anyway.

* * *

Geoffrey had run out of flattery. He was cycling now, reusing some of the better words in different ways. He was worried she'd find it boring, but she either didn't notice or didn't care. Ariel kept smiling, so he kept telling her how lovely she was (because, well, she _was_ lovely, and even more lovely when she smiled) as he waited for just the right moment to use...it.

He had it, right against his heart. He'd managed to find one while they were investigating his packages, and so he'd slipped it into his doublet. And what a find it had been! Perfect for his needs, small and discreet; no one had seen it since he'd tucked it away. He just needed an opening and he'd be golden.

After a couple of bites of chicken (it'd been a long trip, after all, and he _was_ hungry), he thought he might have it. Ariel had taken the opportunity to start talking herself, and while most of it went right over his head (complaints about the castle, complaints about the drafts, complaints about her shoes, complaints about her clothes, complaints about her pony) he noticed one name immediately.

"He doesn't appreciate you suitably, does he?"

Ariel stopped short. "Who, Eric? Oh no, no, of course he appreciates me. You know, in that 'never buys me anything, never spends any time with me, hasn't given me a compliment in who knows how long' kind of way. Did I mention that he gave me another book?"

Geoffrey could only stare.

"You mean, he has ample opportunity to stand in your radiant presence and he eschews it for... what?"

Her hands fluttered in irritation now.

"Oh, I don't know. I couldn't tell you. Apparently, he'd rather go out hunting or slaying ogres or monsters or whatever than spending time with me. And when we do get into a room together, all he can do is talk about how he'd killed this or saved that. It gets to be boring after a few minutes, you know? It doesn't have anything to do with me, so I just have to stand there and nod as he goes through his laundry list of dead things. It's terrible, I tell you."

"So... you'd rather have someone who appreciates you?"

She smiled pleasantly at him. "Why do you think I invited you down?"

Geoffrey grinned. Now was the time. His hand slipped into his doublet and wrapped carefully around his little surprise. This was just the opening he'd needed. He began to pull it out.

Which, of course, was when everything went to the flaming nether regions in a handbasket.

There was a roar from above, followed by a shout of dismay. Geoffrey felt the table shake and looked up to see a rather wobbly Prince Eric Greystone attempting to stand with one foot in the butter and the other dunked in the gravy; apparently, sitting in the rafters had put one of his legs to sleep. He wasn't there long, however, as Marko tumbled down. The larger man hit the other side of the table, sending it's contents (which included Eric) flying towards the princess.

"Ariel!" Geoffrey cried, hoping she was all right.

"Mmmrrrf?" which was Marko, who'd ended up face-first in the chicken.

"Blackpool!" Eric shouted somewhat woozily, as he'd managed to hit a support beam. Nonetheless, he staggered towards Geoffrey, sword in hand as Geoffrey let the small, perfect red rose drop from his fingers along with the rather large gold ring. Eric stared at both ring and flower as if they might transform into a hideous beast and try to eat his head. He was, in fact, sort of hoping that might happen at this point, sleeping leg and everything.

Geoffrey ignored him and ran to find Ariel, who had been covered in most of dinner. Butter, gravy, mashed potatoes; cheese, soup, cooked spinach... you couldn't see her dress for all the food. And as if to add insult to injury, one of the roast pheasants had skewered itself on her hat.

That was when Ariel started crying.

* * *

It was very uncomfortable to stand before the king with gravy in your halfboot. It was even less comfortable when he was glaring at you.

"So you were investigating the mice problem up there, Eric. Is that what you're telling me?"

Oh, he winced. "Yes, your Majesty."

"And this particular room had a terrible infestation that couldn't wait until tomorrow."

"Yes, your Majesty."

King Baaldorf looked over at Marko, whose head sunk down into his shoulders until they were touching his ears. It was rather obvious that Marko wasn't exactly up to adding much to the discussion.

"And you jumped down onto the table where Geoffrey Blackpool and the princess Ariel were having dinner--"

"When I saw that he had a weapon!" And Eric clung to that defense like a boat to an anchor. Marko rubbed his face with one hand.

"And by weapon," Traquill pointed out helpfully, "you mean the miniature rose he was going to give the princess."

Another wince. "Yes."

There was silence in the room. After all, there wasn't much that could be said. They couldn't exactly be angry with Eric for his suspicions; they'd had them themselves. Geoffrey wasn't really 'favored' so his inconvenience wasn't a particular issue; the young man in question had mostly been concerned for Ariel's sake. The real problem was Ariel.

Three maids had quit already, and the ranting hadn't stopped yet. Every time there was a lull, there was hope. But then she'd find another pea in her hair and the whole thing would start up again. The king probably wouldn't have been as troubled if he didn't have his own living quarters within shrieking distance. It was definitely within shrieking distance.

"This isn't going to happen again, is it, Greystone?"

The prince's head shook almost too fast. Marko just nodded.

"Good," said the king before settling himself down into his throne. "Do you think you could see our visitor out? And..." goodness, he hated to say this, "let him know that he's welcome back for another visit. Considering what happened this time."

Eric grit his teeth, as he wasn't pleased in the least with this turn of events, but both he and Marko nodded appropriately.

"Go along, boys," Traquill said with a rather dusty chuckle, "best get Blackpool out of the castle before he starts any actual mischief."

Both of them could at least agree with that, and so they slipped out of the throne room with a quick bow.

* * *

Bethel pulled away from the pool and the image within, unable to help the faint smirk on her face. Dirk, who stood beside her, wasn't _quite_ smirking, but it was close.

"I'm still surprised you let him go. You're not going soft on me, are you?"

The expression of amusement fell off of his face and was replaced with annoyance. "Of course not. Don't presume to know my mind, Bethel."

She had known her comment would get such a reaction. It was why she'd made it.

"Of course," she repeated his words back to him, a hint of mocking in her tone and a twinkle in her eye. Dirk Blackpool might not be as simple to manipulate as most men, but he wasn't nearly as labyrinthine as he liked to think he was. "Though it doesn't seem to have gone very well for him, all the same."

Dirk snorted and strode away from the pool, rolling his eyes. Did they give him so little credit?

"Exactly. Greystone's suspicion ruined everything."

"And why is this something you're pleased about? Other than getting to see your brother's dreams so thoroughly crushed."

The elder Blackpool turned to her, smiling once again.

"While Geoffrey's failure was indeed... satisfying, I have gained something much more important. Eric Greystone was humiliated. His suspicions have lost some weight."

"And you're going to use that to your advantage?" she asked, knowing the answer.

"Of course, Bethel," he told her with a smooth grin, "don't you know what they always say? Never show your hand on the first date."


End file.
